The Reality Is
by Dream Hime
Summary: Stranded in Westeros and technically immortal, needing to give up on the past to focus on her future. Some choices were never hers to make, but others, others are hers for the taking.
Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire) is not mine and shall never be. To be fair, while I might muck about in the sandbox, I don't think I could be half as awesome and I would hesitate to kill off any of the people I would invariably fall in love with as I created them.

I don't own Inuyasha either, though I seem to really only steal one character away to run with.

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Kagome rubbed her hands together and considered the woods around her. She'd been dragged, kicking and screaming, to the world that was now her home five years ago. A parting gift from Midoriko, she'd been torn away from everything she'd ever known, much as she'd torn the Jewel apart. Except there was no chance to go back, to return to what once was. She was well and truly stuck in the new realm, and had to make do. Magatsuhi had had a brief moment of kindness and had blessed her with immortality. Until she found something worth living for, she would never age, neve die.

She thought it would have been better for him to keep his blessing. It was no kindness to her. She couldn't die, not by her hand or by others, and in the short time she'd been in the world, there had been too many deaths. She moved closer to the tiny camp fire. It was unseasonably cold, the coldest she'd ever been in her years here.

Kagome sighed and pat the bedding next to her. A silvery fox came bursting from the dark of the woods and turned circles before settling on the cloth. Kagome curled up next it, pulling the assorted furs around her up, tucking the fabric over her head. It would have been better for her to set the tent out, but she had a feeling she would need to be moving soon.

She listened to those feelings now. They were the only thing that mattered. The fox nudged her with a paw. Kagome sighed and drifted off to sleep.

She woke hours later with a jerk. The fox made a low keening sound. She jerked off the furs, rolling everything into a bundle that she threw into the bag she'd painstakingly stitched together. Hurriedly, she kicked snow over the dead fire bed and scrambled up a tree, the fox on her shoulder. She made a motion and the snow billowed up before settling over the ground again. Perched in the branches, she waited.

Minutes later, a group of five wandered into the clearing. She watched as they paused, clearly bewildered by the lack of tracks for whatever it was that they were hunting. As she watched they moved on slowly, crossing the clearing warily as if expecting an attack. There was a _crack_ in the woods and they spun to face it. She watched the deer leap away and the group follow it. She weighed her choices, she could try to leave the tree now and potentially be noticed by the group she had seen or another that she was certain was out there, or she could stay in the tree. Making a decision, she shimmied further up the tree, tucking herself into deep crevice. She dug through one of the bags attached to her belt and pulled out a couple pieces of jerky. She fed the fox one and ate the other.

It seemed like days before she heard more noise in the woods, she looked over, expecting to see the group with their deer. Instead, one man (or was it boy?) sprinted across the clearing, heading back the way they had come. The other three were trying to support the last.

"C'mon Bastard, you can't die today. Not out in the woods. You haven't even been with a woman yet." One of the boys was saying. "Just think of what you're missing."

The boy laughed weakly.

"No one wants to bed a bastard." He coughed and lift his automatically. Red glistened in the morning light.

"Theon, shut the hell up." The third boy snarled. "Jon, it'll be alright. Father will be here shortly; he'll know what to do." He looked to the other man and jerked his head. The man nodded and set off in the same direction as the sprinting boy.

"The Lady Mother will be thrilled." Jon gasped. "Lord Stark's honor will finally be cleansed."

"Don't say that Jon!" The red haired boy continued to pull him forward, the other one silent.

"You'll be a great lord one day Robb. You will." Jon made a pained sound toppled forward into the snow.

"Theon! Theon pick him up, pick him up!" Robb was frantic. He slipped his hands under Jon's knees and behind his back and lifted. "Come on little brother, this can't be how this hunt ends." He stumbled forward and the other stood back, watching them with a vaguely amused tilt to his lips. He turned and melted away into the trees. Robb continued forward. "Arya will be most disappointed in you Jon. And Sansa will miss you. And who will give Bran climbing tips? I can't climb worth shit."

Kagome gnawed at her lip. Technically, if she was to help, and if she did it quickly, she could disappear before they knew what happened. She slipped her arms out of her backpack and set the fox on the branch. She turned over and dropped to the branch below her. The red haired boy would pass below her, and she could heal the boy in his arms with a glancing touch. She lowered herself again and again before pausing to wait. She studied the distance between the boy and the branch she was laying on. The boy had stopped moving and was sobbing into the hair of the other, repeating his name over and over.

With a sigh, she rolled from the branch and dropped to the ground. The boy's head snapped up and quick as a flash, there was a dagger in his hands.

"You stay away! You've done enough!" Kagome held her hands up and stepped closer. He gathered the other boy up and bared his teeth at her. "Stay away!" She darted forward and pressed her hand to the dying boy's face. There was a flash of silver-blue light and she leapt back with a hiss. Vaguely, she was aware that the cut on her face was knitting over already, glowing a soft silver as it closed. She paid more attention to the other boy, how he suddenly jerked, how his skin shone silver. She stepped back, once again and whistled shortly. Her pack fell from the trees and she caught it, slinging it over her shoulder even as she took another step back. There was a soft thump, and she felt the weight of the fox. She spun on her heels, intent on sprinting as far away as she could from the scene.

She stopped. There was a man barreling towards her, sword drawn. She turned and ran in the other direction. She saw the boy's eyes widen as she rushed toward him, saw him hold the dagger in front of him again and then she was past him. She'd barely made it into the trees when she was clotheslined. She saw stars when she hit the ground, a flash of silver.

Then it was pain, pain, pain as the sword slid through her chest and pinned her to the ground. Kagome reached up in disbelief, and wrapped her hands around the metal. She tried to pull it up, to pull it out, to get it out of her, but the owner twisted the sword and she shrieked. Her last sight was of the third boy smiling down at her as he pulled the blade from her chest.

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Kagome jerked awake, hand to her chest. There was no gaping wound, no clean slice, no scar. She ran her fingers over the skin and opened her eyes.

There was a man sitting in a chair by the door.

She pushed herself sideways, toppling out of the bed and drawing as close to the wall as she could. She ran her hand down her thigh and clenched her jaw when her fingers didn't meet her dagger. She chanced a glance down to see that she was wearing a simple gray dress that wasn't hers.

"What you did, can it be undone?" The man inquired.

She shook her head.

"You are not one of the wildlings."

She shook her head again and glanced around. Anything that she could have used as a weapon was on the other side of the bed.

"You are not from beyond The Wall."

Kagome could hear the capitals in his voice. She'd never seen the Wall, and was sure she would know it from the way he spoke of it.

"I am not." She looked around the room again. "Am I a prisoner?"

"You are."

"I only wanted that he should live." She offered. "I cannot and will not undo what I have done."

"We shall see."

Kagome closed her eyes and cursed herself. She should have just stayed up the tree.

"Where are my belongings?" The man gave her a flat look. She sighed. "Is Fierce here? The fox." He nodded.

"Are you a highborn? Your belongings were well made. I've never seen furs such as yours."

She shrugged helplessly.

"Even if I were, there is no family to claim me here."

"But elsewhere?"

"I was many things elsewhere, least of all a lady." He nodded and pushed himself to his feet. "May I have Fierce?"

"I will think on it." He left the room, closing and locking the door behind him. Kagome relaxed. She pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the other side of the bed. She poured herself a goblet of water and looked around the room once more.

Of all the luck.

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A week passed before the man came again. Kagome looked up from the floor when the door opened and shut.

"I am Lord Eddard Stark, and you are in Winterfell."

"I am Kagome Higurashi." She smiled ruefully. "I have been going by Tiamat. It's simpler."

The man nodded stiffly.

"I cannot return your weapons yet, but you may leave this room and wander the grounds if you wish. Your fox will also be returned to you."

"How wonderful." Kagome murmured. "Will I ever be free to leave?" The man hesitated.

"It was not black magic that you did nor black magic that healed you."

"Black magic is filth. It is rotten. To even attempt it should be punishable by death." He weighed her words, judged her and left the room. She stared at the open door way and stood up. Slowly, cautiously, she stepped towards the door. Resting her hands on the wall, she leaned through the open portal. Eddard Stark was striding down the hallway. Next to the door sat a small pile of her belongings. She dragged the pile into her room and shook out a thick white fur.

In another world, Sesshoumaru had gifted her the pelts of three bear demons she had killed with only her sword. Happily, they were included with the many belongings that had followed her. She laid it on the bed and continued sorting through the pile. Heavy silks were spread out, books piled in empty corners, jewelry and small trinkets set on the small table. Her fingers stilled as they slid over thick purple cloth. She pulled it to her face and breathed in.

Miroku.

Oh Miroku.

She shook out the cloth and folded it again carefully before setting it on the bed. She ran her fingers over the cloth and shifted it to the pillow next to her head.

She'd never see him again and it hurt. They were supposed to live happily ever after, the end. Instead, she'd been torn away from him. Kagome shook her head and finished putting away the rest of the pile. She frowned and turned back to the jewelry.

It wasn't there.

She shook out the silks and the furs.

It wasn't there.

She spun around and marched out of the room. She stormed down the hall, peering this way and that, trying to find someone to take her to Stark.

"You!" She barked, catching sight of a young girl with black hair. The girl turned to look at her. "Where is Stark?"

"Which one?" The responded, gray eyes amused.

"The Lord Stark." She bit out. "Where is he?" The girl studied her before turning around.

"Follow me." Kagome followed her out of the building, out into a courtyard. She shivered once, aware that she was only wearing a thick dress. The girl turned to see if she was still following and continued walking.

But Kagome didn't. There was a boy talking to a pretty girl with soft brown hair. He was dangling a necklace in front of her.

Kagome saw red. It took her ten steps to stand behind him. Another to stand next to him. Her foot shot out and caught him in the knee. He let out a shout of surprise as he fell. She grabbed his arm and twisted. He screamed.

Vaguely, she was aware of the other girl backing away. Of all the motion in the courtyard grinding to a halt. She took the necklace away from him and dropped his arm, spinning to kick him away. Her hands shook as she studied the necklace.

It was okay. It was alright and no one had messed with it.

"Do I need to lock you away again?"

She turned to look at the man who'd spoken. The Lord Stark. One hand was on the head of the girl who'd led her outside, the other was drawing closer to his sword.

"This was my husbands!" She held out the necklace. "My husbands! I've only two things in this world that belonged to him and I'll let no one take them away."

The man frowned.

"I see." He dropped his hand. "That was an oversight on our behalf."

"Did you see what that bitch did to me?" The boy screeched, pushing himself to his feet. "Lord Stark, she should be punished."

"And you would be as well. Have you learned no honor? Or was that iron bought?" Eddard ended sardonically. The boy paled further and looked away.

"I am sorry for that. This is, this is all I have left." Kagome apologized without prompting. "I was not thinking." The boy shot her an ugly look. Eddard nodded.

"My daughter, Arya, will lead you back to your room." Kagome winced. No wonder the girl had asked her which Stark, she was one.

"And Fierce?"

"Will be returned to you as I've said." Kagome blushed and looked at her feet. The girl took her hand and gently led her inside.

"Theon was going on about how you couldn't use your weapons, but you can, can't you?"

"I can."

"And you can fight without them too, can't you?"

"I can."

"Oh, I wish Mother would let me learn. But she refuses." The girl studied her slyly. "But you could teach me."

"Not without cause."

Arya pouted.

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Kagome sighed and pushed her hair out of her face. It was growing past her thighs, but every time she made mention to cut it, Sansa would have fits.

And somehow it would filter around to Jon Snow who'd sidle up to her when she was outside with Fierce and he would beg her not to.

It was odd that he would ask her, but she'd roll her eyes and leave it alone. Arya had taken to braiding it up in many different fashions, and it was on this one thing she and her elder sister enjoyed doing together.

The Lady Stark had quietly thanked her for allowing her daughters to muck about in her hair.

She cut another herb and added it to her basket. She'd been in Winterfell for three years, and everyone noticed that while everyone else aged, she hadn't. She'd been hearing murmurs of witchcraft and black magic, and she was going out of her way to assist anyone in whatever way they needed.

Except Theon. He wanted her on her back, or her knees or somewhere below to him.

If she had to threaten to castrate him one more time …

She added another herb to the basket and pushed herself to her feet. Shading her eyes, she studied Winterfell. The king was apparently coming, and they'd spent weeks cleaning every corner and shining the goblets. Lord Stark had told her that he'd quietly claimed her as his ward, and she'd understood.

Word of her power had escaped Winterfell, though they had tried to stymie the flow. If the king decided he wanted her, he could take her. At least as a ward, Stark could put up a fight. She walked through the gates. Maester Luwin would be looking for her and her herbs. They had a deal. He'd ignore anything too magical about her, and she'd heal anything that came their way. While they might call her a witch, the people of Winterfell were the best they'd ever been. All of the babes she'd helped birth where healthy and hale, and most of their mothers were as well. Less children died from sickness.

For that, they could limit their fears to whispers in the night.

She waved at Robb and Jon, watching as the black haired teen aptly disarm the other. She headed into the main hall. Fierce was with Arya. He'd taken to following the girl and her wolf cub around, teasing the cub something fierce before vanishing. She strode down the hall, waving at passing servants before she let herself into the Luwin's rooms.

"Tiamat, there you are!" She smiled at him as she set her basket on the table. "You always find the most delightful herbs, it's a wonder." Luwin entered the room. She spent the rest of her afternoon setting up herbs to dry, testing the ones that were drying and bottling any that were dried. She let herself out when she was done and meandered out to the dining hall.

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Kagome looked up as Sansa burst into her room.

"They're here! Oh, you must get dressed." The red-haired girl flitted around picking and discarding dresses until she found one she liked. Kagome rolled her eyes. She'd seen Sansa eying the dress for weeks now, ever since she'd snipped the final thread. It was a deep blue and wearing it and one of the demon bear pelts would make her a striking figure. Sansa dashed out of the room again. Kagome shut the door and undressed before pulling on the dress. She flip-flopped for a while before tucking a scarf she'd create from Miroku's robes around her neck, fluffing the fabric when she was done. She'd barely sat when Sansa and Arya burst into the room again. They attacked her hair, combing it and petting it and arranging it until it was just right and she was the perfect Northern Lady. She watched as Sansa did Arya's hair, giggling over what the Prince would look like and deftly ignoring the gagging sounds Arya made.

When they were dressed, Sansa dragged the out to the courtyard. Arya wriggled away from them and vanished off. Kagome slipped away from Sansa, falling back until she stood next to Jon.

"You look lovely." He murmured, cheeks red. She smiled up at him.

"Many thanks." He ducked his head.

"She won't spread her legs for pretty words, Bastard." Theon snapped. "And she'll marry into her station, not below it." The smile fell from Jon's face. He cleared his throat and stepped away from her. "I think I'll ask Lord Stark for you. You're going to age right past your spring years. And your cunt has been without a proper cock for too long."

"With all your boasting, you probably nurse a needle down there that goes off when the tip gets wet." Jon snorted in laughter.

Theon sneered down at her.

"What do you know of cocks? Your husband probably killed himself because you're as frigid as the ice we're surrounded by."

Kagome stilled.

"I will remember those words Theon Greyjoy. And when the King has left, you will pay for each." She stepped to the other side of Jon. She clenched her fist and opened it, clench, release, clench, release. And then Jon was holding her hand. He squeezed it once before letting go.

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Tyrion Lannister was many things, most of all a monster. When he'd heard that the Starks had a greengirl, a healer, he hoped. As tales filtered South of what she could do, he dreamed. Dreamed of finally gaining his father's approval. Of finally being more than half of a man. Of being complete.

He'd rode in behind his sister, knowing that she hated that he was marring their grand entrance, aware that he was showing his hand.

But if she could make him whole he would give her the world.

He heard one of the Stark brats gleefully announce the Imps presence. He ignored her and continued to look for the healer.

There.

She was right there.

Tyrion felt the blood rush from his face.

Every time he had pictured her healing him, he'd pictured an old crone. Some toothless hag. Some plain girl who the gods had seen fit to gift in one way if she couldn't be in another.

But she was beautiful.

More so than even his sister, she was beauty in human flesh.

Her skin was as pale as snow, and from where he sat he believed a blemish had never marked her. Her lips were the pale pink of roses. Her eyes were blue of the clearest seas with a cat-like tilt. She was foreign. Exotic. A goddess given form.

How could he even present himself to her?

To ask her to look upon his broken flesh and complete him?

He could not.

He would not.

He waited for the king to walk away and for everyone to move again before he wheeled his horse around and went to the nearest whorehouse.

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Kagome sat across from Jon, feeling the weight of the Queen's eyes on her. She sipped from her goblet and picked at her meal.

"Are you well Lady Tiamat?" Jon inquired softly. She smiled at him and patted his hand before standing.

"I'm feeling unwell actually." She caught Arya's hand before the girl could launch food at her sister. "Bed time for us, little lady."

The girl grumbled as she was escorted from the hall. Kagome was aware that Jon had followed. She dropped the girl off in her room and waited for her to lock the door behind her before going to her own room. She opened it and stepped in.

"Thank you for escorting me."

"For you? Anything." She smiled at him. He hesitated and then stepped forward.

"Jon?" He cupped her face and kissed her, lips warm and dry and _good_ against her own. She made a noise, and then his hands were in her hair as he tilted her chin, the kiss still gentle and sweet. She opened her eyes when he stepped back.

"I-I apologize. But I had to know, to try. Before I couldn't."

"Jon?" She reached for him and he stepped back again.

"Good night." He turned and marched away. Kagome touched her fingers to her lips. He'd kissed her. The perpetual teen felt her heart flutter. Jon was kind and good. He had the Stark honor in spades, but was buried under the weight of his heritage. She closed the door, locked it. As she undressed, she weighed his actions.

Jon was honorable, and stealing a kiss wasn't, not from someone who was technically a lady.

She giggled to herself as she slipped into her nightgown.

She sobered when she caught sight of the necklace that was hung next to her bed. She reached out and touched the ring dusted with purple stones. Miroku, Miroku wasn't here. He wasn't here and it had been eight years.

Kagome thought about her monk. About his kindness, his generosity. About who he was as a person. She would never see him again. Never breathe in the scent of ink that clung to his fingers, never smell the herbs he washed in, never feel the heat and weight of him in the night. Never again. The tiny echoes of himself that he'd embedded into the rocks were soothing, accepting.

The love they had was true. It was meant to be eternal.

She thought of Miroku and let go.

He would always mean the world to her, and she would always love him. But he would hate that she wielded their love as a shield, tucking herself away and letting life go by just to cling to what was and could no longer be.

She fell asleep with the ring on her finger, clutching his robes to her chest.

When she woke she tucked them both into her trunk.

She let go.

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Tyrion looked down at the black haired whore whose lips were around his cock. Jaime had tried to get him to leave the whorehouse and enter Winterfell proper, but he couldn't.

She was there.

She'd see him, in all his ugliness.

The door burst open and his sister barged into the room. His cock shrunk immediately and he yanked the sheet up to cover himself.

"Someone's getting greedy." He bit out. She sneered at him and left the room. He took the time to wash himself before he got dressed and slunk away. With minimal fuss, he'd found his rooms where he washed himself yet again and dressed in a different set of clothes. From there, he made his way to the dining hall. He peered in. She wasn't there. He ordered a servant to bring him a meal and sat at the table where he imagined the most shadow gathered. The girl returned with his food and he ate it quickly. He left the room after getting directions to the library, and went there.

He entered the room to an argument. The Lord Stark and his bastard quieted when they saw him.

"Don't mind me, I've wanted to see these libraries for a while." The elder Stark nodded.

"No more of this Jon. Is that understood?"

"I've never asked anything of you father. Only this. Please father, she has no family, no lands, nothing to offer you. I might be a bastard, but I'm a highborn one. She'll not want for anything."

"Jon."

"Father." The younger boy took a deep breath, let it out. "If I were Greyjoy, would you consider it?"

"You are not him." The man returned.

"I see." The boy opened his mouth, closed it, opened. "I never asked to be a bastard Lord Stark. But Snow I am, and it as all I can be. I'm cast here, yet again, highborn enough to be out of the servant's reach and yet all I'll ever be is base born." He strode from the room, as cold as the snow he was named of. Lord Stark sighed.

Tyrion grabbed a book from the shelf and settled into a chair.

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Kagome found Jon in the sparring ring, beating the ever-living hell out of Greyjoy with a viciousness that was new to her. The other teen could barely get a word out, severely hampering his ability to rile Jon into an error. Beating delivered, Theon escaped the ring and Robb entered.

This spar too was an exercise in viciousness. The spar ended quickly, and Jon looked around wildly for another opponent. When none came forward, he put his practice sword away and called Ghost to his side. His walk faltered when he saw her, and she smiled at him. He looked at her, past her, and continued walking. Her smile dimmed. She fell into step next to him.

"Good day."

"My lady." He murmured. She blinked.

"Did, did I do something?"

"Never, my lady. The fault is mine." He stopped walking as did she. "It was an error in judgement. I am a bastard. A Snow by name. You are a lady."

"That doesn't matter to me." She reached out to touch his arm. He stepped back. Inexplicably hurt, she dropped her hand. "Please don't."

"My lady." He dipped his head and walked away. Kagome blushed, embarrassed by the curt rejection. She looked around and spotted Robb watching her. She waved at him and he responded in kind. She looked up to see Lady Catelyn watching her. She nodded at her and swept away, head high.

She'd let Miroku go.

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Tyrion was aware that it was only a matter of time before he ran into her. He knew it. He did not expect Jaime to be the one to call her attention to him.

He loved his brother. He was the only one in their family who treated him as if he were a person.

But today he wished he would die.

"Here he is Lady Tiamat." His brother smiled at the woman charmingly. "My brother, Tyrion the Imp."

"That's me, the Monster women tell their children about at night."

She looked down at him, eyes the blue of the clearest seas.

"I see no monster. Only a man."

"But can you make him a complete one?" Jaime pressed. "Give him the proper body? I've heard you can heal, so heal him."

"Yes, please. I'd like to see." Tyrion grit his teeth when his sister's honeyed voice floated over them.

"I cannot." Lady Tiamat responded.

"You can't fix that monster?" Cersei snapped. "Well, mayhap the rumors were too good to be truth."

Tiamat dropped to her knees in front of him and took his hand.

"He is not the monster in this room, my Queen." She closed her eyes and her skin shone silver. Old aches and pains that were all he'd ever known vanished. She pressed a kiss to his knuckles and gently released his hand. "That is the best I can do for you my lord. I am sorry. Had you been newly born, I could do more."

"It is more than enough." He choked out. She'd said he wasn't a monster. Had pressed her sweet lips against his hand. Had not been disgusted by his deformities. She stood up and left the room.

Cersei seethed at the disrespect, and the implied insult that either she or Jaime were monsters. She stormed away, calling her twin to her side.

Tyrion remained where he stood.

He wasn't a monster.

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Kagome was aware that Jon had taken to avoiding her. So, she waited in his room one night until he appeared. When he shut the door, she slid in front of it, barring his exit.

"My lady!" He exclaimed, appalled at finding her in the one place he never thought she would be.

"My lord!" She exclaimed, just because she could.

"You can't be in here, you must leave. This isn't proper." He made to open the door and she slapped his hand away.

"I wondered if you noticed that I stopped wearing that necklace, that scarf, that I'd place my husband's belongings into my trunk that night, because I finally **let him go**. I wondered."

Jon froze, swallowed hard and then made another attempt to open the door she was pressed against. This time, instead of slapping his hand away, she stepped forward. Jon stumbled back.

"I wondered why you suddenly had no time for me. Was it a game? A lie? Were you and Theon sitting somewhere, laughing about gullible, gullible Tiamat?"

She stepped forward again. Jon felt the bed behind his knees and knew there was nowhere else to retreat to.

"That isn't it at all."

"Oh? You weren't laughing at me? So was it a game?"

"Never."

"A lie?"

"Never." Jon repeated. He gulped because she was right there in front of him, in his room with the door closed and longed to just hold her in his arms and kiss her again.

"Then what was it Jon Snow? What was it that I put my husband away for?"

"I never asked you to do that!" He saw the muscles of her jaw clench as she narrowed her eyes up at him. There was a pause, another, and then she shoved him backward. He toppled into the bed with a yelp. He tried to sink into the mattress when she clambered on top, as she crawled over him and sat on his waist.

"Never?" She bent forward. "Never?" Her next breath rushed against his lips. She sat there, her lips almost against his. He whimpered and strained upwards, pressing his lips to hers. In moment, his hands were in her hair as he kissed her again. This time, he licked her lips, nipping at the soft skin until she opened her mouth, and then he kissed her deeply. Somehow, he levered himself up so that she was sat in his lap and he was upright. His mouth went from hers to her cheek to her throat. He licked a stripe up her throat before he pulled her back by her hair and kissed his way down her neck, towards where her breasts rose. He wanted to put his mouth there too, but instead, he moved back up, nipping at the sides of her mouth again before sealing his mouth to hers.

If he could hold this memory close, he could go to The Wall knowing that he could do this to her. That he had done this to her.

Like the ice it was made of, thoughts of The Wall made him pull back.

She made a needy noise and tried to follow his mouth.

"I am going to The Wall Tiamat."

She slipped off his lap and left the room.

Outside, Theon was waiting.

"You'll fuck the Bastard and not me?" He jeered. She looked up at him with such blankness that what he would say next dried in his throat. She walked past him. She made it to her room where she opened her trunk and dug out her ring. She closed her fingers around the gems and felt for him.

But the echoes were gone.

She heard a sound that was half agony and half rage and then she was up, tearing the room apart. Fierce ducked under the bed as she tore the furs from the bed, kicked books out of her way and upended the table. It wasn't until someone's arms were around her, dragging her up that she realized that she was making the sound. She shuddered.

"Are you well now?" She heard Lord Stark ask. She nodded her head. He set her on the ground. She blinked and looked around. The edges of the bear pelts were singed black and she'd broken the table that sat next to her bed. Her trunk was in pieces. She made a wounded sound and shuffled through the wreckage to dig out Miroku's robe. It was alright, she hadn't damaged it.

"What happened? Was it Theon?" She shook her head.

"He's going to The Wall." Eddard looked down at her.

"What?"

"He's going to The Wall. The Wall is a better choice than I. Even the bastard thinks so." She let out a sobbing breath. "What did I expect?"

Behind him, Catelyn made a sound of disgust. The girl whirled.

"It's your fault too. Always looking down at him like he's less than shit. Less than anything else in the world. He was born a bastard, but he didn't make himself one." Catelyn looked away and Eddard stiffened. "I've been here too long. I need to leave."

"We can talk about this later Tiamat. For now, please don't do anything rash."

The girl looked up at him with wounded eyes.

"I already have."

xxxxxxxxxx

Kagome watched as they brought Bran into the room. The boy was pale and still in a way he was never meant to be. She reached forward, intending to heal him, but suddenly Catelyn was there, screeching at her and refusing to let her heal him. Kagome looked from the hysterical wife to her husband. The man nodded and she left. She sat in the hall with Sansa and Arya. The younger girl had climbed into her lap, her arms around her neck as she cried. Sansa was holding her hand as she wept.

She sat there as Sansa retreated to her room, sat there until Arya fell silent, asleep. Jon appeared, bending to take Arya from her. She leaned backwards, as far away from him as she could as he picked the girl up.

He didn't look back at her as he walked away.

She didn't watch him leave.

Instead, she pushed herself to her feet and touched Robb's shoulder. The older teen smiled up at her thanked her wetly. She walked away. Later that night, Eddard begged her to heal his son. She brushed her fingers over his cheek, watched as the boy shone silver and slipped from the room before his mother could wake.

Two days later, he opened his eyes and told his father who had pushed him from the tower. Eddard quietly informed the King that he could not leave his family.

A Stark knew duty, and duty to his family came before all.

xxxxxxxxxx

Tyrion had planned to go to The Wall with the bastard who was taking the Black. He'd wanted to piss off the end of the world. For what she had done for him, he'd go with the bastard to The Wall to ensure he came back.

He'd thought to offer for her, but he knew if he did she would be dead within the year. Cersei hated her. His father would use her for his own gains. And even though she said he wasn't a monster, he couldn't see her ever letting him lay with her.

That was a lie. He could see it plenty. Could see it every time he closed his eyes, every time he saw her, every time he fucked a black haired whore. But the reality would be different. He might not be a monster, but he was less than a man.

"Do you think Lord Stark is taking offers for Lady Tiamat? She'd make the best wife. I'd give up all the whores if I could slip between her legs every night." The look the bastard gave him was colder than the wall they were going to. "But you wouldn't know what to do if those legs were around you, would you boy?"

The bastard flushed a dull red.

"More than you know." He replied.

Oh, oh, there was a story there.

"Did you stick her with the pointy end then?" Tyrion asked. He tapped his fingers on his knees. "Actually, I heard she was widowed. With no maidenhead, any countless number of men could have had their fill."

"Apparently, you weren't one of them."

"But the eldest one, Robb, he probably has. Fit boy like that has his pick of the litter." The boy's gloves creaked. "She'll be a great Lady to Winterfell, wouldn't she? Healing the sick? Improving morale one cock at a time."

"Stop it."

"I might stop in on my way back, just to see if I can get between those glorious thighs."

"Stop it."

"What a fuck she will be. Do you think, you know, with the healing. What if she's always virgin tight? Fresh as the day she first fucked."

"STOP IT! Stop it, please." The bastard's voice broke. "Please no more."

"You know, if she's on her knees, she's the perfect height for me to fuck." The boy flinched and flicked his reigns and then the horse galloped away.

"Is this really necessary?" Benjen murmured. "He's taking the Black, why torture him so?"'

"Do you know that he asked for her hand? And that she destroyed furniture with her bare hands when he told her he planned on going to The Wall? The only thing barring their path is Lord Stark. He's a bastard, she comes from a land far away. Why not leave? Why not just slip away in the night and be together?"

Benjen considered his words.

"Because he's a Stark."

"Then he will face the reality that she will never be his."

xxxxxxxxx

Kagome swung and Arya blocked. The girl pressed forward, jabbing at her with the practice sword. Kagome batted it away and Arya stilled at the press of metal against her throat.

"I will win one day."

"Today is not that day." Kagome replied. Arya laughed as she put away her sword. Kagome followed, placing the dull blade with the others. The girl led the way into the building and Kagome trailed alongside her, listening halfheartedly. They'd convinced her to stay at Winterfell, and so she did.

But it hurt to.

She blinked and looked up when she heard Arya squeal.

Jon was here.

He was back.

He was marching towards her like he was considering slitting her throat.

She took a step back and then froze, straightening her spine and staring at him imperiously. He stopped in front of her, a wry smile on his lips.

"Oh." She said. And then he was licking his way into her mouth like it was his and he had the right to it. One had cupped the nape of her neck possessively and the other cupped her cheek. She pressed a hand to his cheek as if checking that he was really there before her hand slipped into his hair. She tugged his head back, pressing her lips to his pulse. She let go, sliding her arms around him and resting her head against his chest where she could hear the solid beating of his heart. He wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek against the side of her head. He glared at the scandalized looking servant and she skittered away.

Behind Jon, someone cleared their throat.

"Welcome back." Eddard intoned. Next to him, Catelyn was watching them in some sort of fascinated horror. Jon pressed a kiss to her head and turned to face them.

"I'll ask one more time, Lord Stark. May I have her hand?"

"You know where I stand."

"Lady Tiamat, how opposed are you to leaving Winterfell?" Jon queried.

"Not at all if it's with you." She replied. Jon kissed her again. He also did something with his tongue that made her toes curl. She moaned. Half of her was embarrassed to be where she was, doing what she was. The other half didn't care.

Fuck the Starks.

But not like, literally.

Jon pulled away again. "Tyrion was kind enough to hire me to journey with him for a while. After, we can sail wherever you wish."

Kagome nodded dumbly. He smiled down at her, more carefree than she had ever seen him.

"But, Starks in Winterfell?" She questioned.

"I'm a Snow, love. I can do whatever I wish." She beamed up at him and rushed from the room.

"You'll leave us?" Eddard asked.

"I have always been told that I am a Snow, not a Stark. I've only ever asked one thing Father. Only her."

"He is Lord Stark to you." Catelyn hissed. Jon laughed.

Kagome burst back into the room as if she expected Jon to no longer be there. She made a pleased sound that he was and hoisted her bag.

"I've everything I need."

Lord Stark looked from one to the other.

"You cannot be dissuaded?"

"You won't even tell my why you say no. I know I'm a bastard and she's highborn, but she has nothing, offers nothing, brings nothing. I could have tied her to the family without you sacrificing your heir."

"That's not the reason."

Jon sniffed.

"I don't care." He took her bag and held out his hand to her. She slipped her hand in his.

"Robb asked me for her hand." Eddard said. "I could not refuse him and accept you, nor would I refuse you and accept him."

It all became clear to Jon.

"You." He turned to Catelyn. "It's you. He can't favor the bastard over his own son."

"He shouldn't! You're a stain upon this house's honor. Robb is his heir."

"Do you love her Robb?" Jon asked. "Do you love Tiamat?"

Robb studied him, closed his eyes and shook his head. Jon smiled at his brother sadly. He did. But he would say no for him.

"Thank you." He murmured. He pressed Kagome's hand to his lips. "Let's go."

She smiled up at him as if he was her world, and he was fine with being the bastard. The unwanted child. The one who should have died with his mother.

In the end, he had her. Her love, her approval.

It was all he would ever need.


End file.
